The dance hall was located in a secluded part of Duke Decaraznan’s mansion.
In other aristocratic families, where wealth was abundant, grand physical and magical arts—normally reserved for castle gates—were casually displayed.
It was a testament to their riches.
And in this very hall, two figures clashed, their swords flashing in the dim light.
The man’s name was Cain von Estel. Until recently, he had been nothing more than a lesser known heir of the Estel family, showing no particular distinction.
Standing before him was a woman, her breath heavy as she raised her sword, a hint of nervousness in her gaze.
Her dark brown hair was tied back to prevent it from interfering with her swordplay. Though she wore soft leather armor, it did little to conceal the graceful curves of her body, her slender limbs, or her ample bosom.
Her name was Noel von Decaraznan, the only princess of the Duchy of Decaraznan, which had stood for a thousand years.
In terms of pure swordsmanship, she was considered capable of surpassing even her elder brother, Perzel von Decaraznan, and could one day lay claim to the title of the era’s greatest swordsman.
The reason she now stood before Cain with her sword raised was simple.
First, it was by the order of her father, Duke Decaraznan.
And second—
Because she wanted this.
Sparring with a man whose strength could shake the continent was an opportunity that came rarely, if ever.
‘…As expected, he’s as strong as the rumors say…!’
Noel swallowed unconsciously as she observed Cain’s expressionless face.
His stance was correct, but there were clear openings—his left upper arm, right lower arm, uneven strides, and a slight tilt to his left side.
At first glance, he seemed like a man who had spent his life idly swinging a sword, his posture filled with gaps that would make even a novice nod in understanding.
Yet, she dared not act rashly.
She had ears, after all.
She had heard countless stories of his strength—so overwhelming that no one could truly measure it.
According to rumors, before Cain von Estel had even reached the level of a master, he had defeated Heir Tournigen—a recognized master—using only bare hands, without ever drawing his sword.
And that was just the beginning.
There were even absurd claims that he could physically grasp another person’s aura, that he had once been caught defenseless in an enemy’s scheme yet had still managed to fend off first-rate swordsmen and mages alike.
Then came the event that shook the continent—the day Iris el Devhart, the princess who had risen to the rank of the empire’s greatest swordswoman, traveled to the Estel Dukedom to challenge Cain’s genius.
It was an event so shocking that it sent ripples through every noble house.
But what followed was even more astonishing.
Even the princess, famed for her unparalleled skill, had left the Duchy of Estel in quiet defeat, unable to achieve what she had hoped for.
The world was left in disbelief!
If even the princess recognized Cain’s talent yet still failed to surpass him, then perhaps the imperial family had already found its future sovereign.
Beyond these, there were countless other stories attesting to his strength.
Of course, they were all just rumors.
Noel was not the type to blindly believe in tales she had not witnessed herself. However, even if only half of them were true, her chances of victory against Cain von Estel were nonexistent.
“…..”
It wasn’t that she found the idea of losing disgraceful.
Her opponent was a fellow seeker of the sword, one who tirelessly honed his craft and walked a path far ahead of hers. Losing to such a transcendent warrior was nothing to be ashamed of.
No, what concerned her was whether she would even be able to display her full strength before him—whether she would be reduced to nothing more than a fool in his presence.
“…I am Noel von Decaraznan. It is truly an honor to meet the renowned Heir Estel.”
She tried to maintain the dignity expected of a noble from a thousand-year-old house, but she couldn’t prevent the slight crack in her voice caused by tension.
Cain, acknowledging her greeting, gave a small nod before speaking.
“Cain of Estel. I look forward to our match, Lady Decaraznan.”
His words were formal, yet his tone was so cold that an outsider might mistake it for nervousness.
Of course, a man of his strength had no reason to be nervous. It was simply the arrogance that came naturally to the strong.
But Noel didn’t find it unpleasant.
No, she found it captivating.
That was the kind of unshakable, cold-blooded warrior she had always admired—
“…Tch.”
Just then, a clicking sound reached her ears.
She instinctively turned toward the source, only to find a strikingly beautiful woman with snow-white hair standing nearby.
The woman stood with a composed air, a coat draped over her arm, her demeanor resting on the fine line between girlhood and womanhood.
At first, Noel assumed she was merely a maid accompanying Cain, but the luxurious quality of her clothing made her doubt that assumption.
Her features were sharp, her expression intelligent and unwavering.
There was no way someone like her would do something as crass as clicking her tongue in disapproval at a person she had just met.
Noel quickly dismissed the thought, assuming she had misheard due to her nerves.
“…Then, let’s begin, Heir Estel.”
She knew of the swordsmanship used by the Estel family.
The famed ‘Bright Sword’ style of the Duchy of Estel was renowned across the continent as an orthodox technique, one that was devoted to refining the fundamentals of the sword.
However—
At the same time, it was also considered rigid and predictable, with little room for deviation.
If that were truly the case, then Noel believed she still had a chance.
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